


Voltron One Shots

by BluePlanetTrash



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Galra Lance (Voltron), Gen, Multi, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-08-06 11:38:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16387073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluePlanetTrash/pseuds/BluePlanetTrash
Summary: Voltron one shots (probably mostly about Lance) that I may or may not do additional parts to. Basically ideas that I wanted to get straight to the good part with, without having a lot of exposition because writing is hard sometimes and I don't want to always write super long stories.Chapter 1) Lance and Kolivan are brothers and they are reunited.Chapter 2) Lance as The Little Match Girl (Christmas story)





	1. Lance and Kolivan are Brothers

Despite what Shiro thought; he wasn’t angry that Keith got to go to the base instead of him. It was the fact that he actually belonged there and Keith hadn’t earned that right yet. None of them knew how important it was to him.

 

He contemplated begging Shiro but in the end, he knew that the mission was more important. Or the mission was more important before he was unable to connect to the base again. When he crashed to Earth so long ago (on his very first Blade mission), he never thought that he’d actually make it back to space and never in a million years think he’d be so close to home and his brother again.

 

So yeah, he wanted to go that base. But Shiro wouldn’t listen to him and took Keith instead. After they left, he let himself sulk on the bridge of the ship, watching out front anxiously for them to return. He tried to tune out Allura’s voice as she continued to degrade his race. He wanted to turn and snap at her; tell her what this war has done to everyone. She’s was never the only victim.

 

It wasn’t long until they received alerts that the red lion was attacking the base. Lance nervously looked over at Allura, not knowing what she’d do.

 

“Allura?” He called quietly, hoping that she’d look at least a little bit hesitant; there was no mercy in her gaze.

 

“Everyone stay focused!” She demanded, glaring out towards the base. He looked around the bridge; everyone had matching looks on their faces to Allura but he just kept looking at her. What he was looking for, he didn’t know, but he knows that it never appeared.

 

“5!” Coran started counting down. What was he supposed to do? What if they did hurt Keith? Why would they do that? They needed Voltron.

 

“4!” Could he jump up and stop them from attacking? But that would mean that he revealed who he was. He couldn’t do that, not after all the time he’d spent on Earth, becoming friends with Hunk and Pidge; they’d never trust him again.

 

“3!” But Kolivan… his brother. The only one left of his family, he couldn’t turn his back on him, even though it’s felt like forever since he’s even heard his voice.

 

“2!” No, he needed to stop this. Something must’ve happened, they wouldn’t just attack Shiro and Keith without there being a reason. He gnashed his teeth, digging his nails into his chair’s arms.

 

“1!” He barely got to his feet before Shiro was hailing the Castle telling them of their safe departure from the base and to expect them and a visitor in the hangers. He let out a large sigh of relief and slumped back in his chair, rubbing an exhausted hand down his face. For a few seconds, he just let himself breathe before following the rest of the paladins, Allura and Coran off the bridge.

 

* * *

 

 

He knew as soon as the Blade walked out of Red; he could smell him. It was the familiar comforting scent that followed him throughout his childhood and helped train him for his own Blade missions. But when the mask came off, he was looking at a face that was well beyond the years he knew. He knew that time was different in space but there was nothing of the brother he knew.

 

Kolivan didn’t seem to notice him though; he was too focused on speaking with Allura.

 

“I suppose I should introduce you to the rest of the paladins,” Allura said turning to face them. She pointed at Hunk and Pidge. “Our Yellow and Green Paladins, Hunk and Pidge,” they raised a hand in greeting and Hunk tried to give him a faint smile, though it fell just as quickly.

 

“And our Blue Paladin, Lance,” Kolivan’s eyes went to him and they just barely widened in shock. Lance watched him, silently, still taking in the sudden changes. Everyone watched in confusion as Kolivan walked over to Lance. Without preamble, he stuck his nose into Lance’s hair and sniffed.

 

“Hey! What are you doing!” Keith yelled, rushing forward to try and knock Kolivan back but Shiro grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

 

Kolivan pulled back, his eyes even wider now.

 

“Is that really you?” He asked quietly. “It’s been deca-pheobs,” Lance let out a small sob of relief and wrapped his hands around Kolivan’s neck, pulling him down in a hug. He let out a stuttered purr in response and tucked Lance close to his chest. He cuddled close and for the first time in a long time let his transformation go. Fur sprouted along his skin, his ears grew out awkwardly, and his tail pressed against the back of his clothes, just begging to be let out. 

 

“You look exactly the same,” Kolivan stated in disbelief, cupping his cheeks and looking over him critically. 

 

“And you don’t,” Lance replied sadly, holding onto his tunic. “I don’t understand,”

 

“We’ll figure it out cub, I promise,”

 

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly. 

“Pardon?”

“I’m sorry!” He looked wildly up at Kolivan, eyes pleading. “I didn’t mean to mess up my mission so bad, and I crashed the ship, and I almost got caught. I’m so sorry,” he shook his head.

“You have nothing to apologize for, you return to us safely and that is all that matters to me,” he rumbled, comforting Lance. “Although, I would like an explanation,”

“As would I,” they both turned to see the Altean Princess, glaring angrily in their direction, her hands on her hips. Lance gulped, looking around at the rest of the team, who looked either angry or concerned. He nodded his head and strode forward, Kolivan protectively at his back.

“Yes, Princess,” 


	2. The Little Match Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short story before the Christmas prompts begin (hopefully tomorrow). I forgot how sad a story The Little Match Girl was until I reread it again

His feet had gone numb a long while ago. It was a cold night, colder than any he’d had the misfortune of knowing. When he had left home, he’d had shoes, they were oversized and he quickly lost one trying to get out of the way of the fast-moving carriages. The other was stolen from him and he didn’t have the strength to go after him. **  
**

The poor boy’s feet were red and blue from the frozen ground. He only wore a thin coat and threadbare pants, that were too short at the ankles. In one hand he held a bundle of matches, nobody has bought anything from him all day, he had been out all day and he didn’t have a single cent to show for it.

He crept along the darkening streets, body trembling from cold and hunger. His eyes watered with more than just the sting of cold wind.

Snow fell from the sky, flaking his dark brown hair with white. His stared into the lit windows as he passed them, the smell of goose, and vegetables drifted in his senses, perfect Christmas feasts. His stomach clenched uncomfortably and he hurried forward, eyes seeking any kind of solace from the storm. He sat in a corner formed by two houses and drew his knees up to his chest, hoping that he would be able to keep some sort of warmth, but he only got colder and colder.

He was too afraid to go home, he hadn’t managed to make a cent. In his father’s eyes, that deserved a least a few good blows. It would be cold there anyway, only a roof above them.

He frowned down at his hand, which was almost completely numb, barely even shivering in the cold anymore. His eyes drifted to the bundle of matches and gulped.

He couldn’t possibly. His father would be furious; but he was so cold, surely if he only took one…

His shaking hands took hold a single match and struck it to life. A trembling breath escaped him at the sudden comforting warmth that flickered over his hand and a small smile came to his face as he held it close to his body. On the outside, he certainly looked pathetic; smiling at something as simple as a weak flame from a single match, but to him, it was like sitting in front of a fully lit wooden stove, fire crackling and warmth spreading as far as it could.

He uncurled his legs, stretching them out to the fire. How nice it would be if he could warm his feet, they were terribly cold but, the flame went out. The warmth disappeared along with the stove, he was left with the cold and the burnt match in his hand.

This time he didn’t hesitate to strike the match against the stone wall he leaned against, he was shocked when the wall seemed to disappear allowing a look into the house. He looked upon a Christmas feast; a goose sitting on porcelain; garnished with apples and plums, potatoes, carrots, beets, everything he could have imagined. His stomach clenched with hunger and he carefully stepped forward, hand reaching forward for just a taste of the meal.

The match went out, his hand hit the cold, dark wall.

He lit another.

He sat beneath the most beautiful Christmas tree he’s ever seen in his life. Even more beautiful than the ones he saw in the shop windows. It stretched far above him in all its glory, twinkling lights shone down at him from the green branches, what seemed like thousands of them. He reached out in awe when the light went out.

His hand reached up towards the stars, looking so alike to his vision that he could barely tell a difference. A star fell from behind his hand, a trail of blazing fire trailing behind it.

“Oh, someone’s died,” he whispered, watching it streak across the sky mesmerized. His abuela, the only one to have ever loved him always told him that when a star fell, someone was going to meet God.

He sniffed, rubbing his watery eyes and running nose against his thin coat and struck another match. In the light stood his abuela, kindly smiling down at him.

“Abuela!” He cried, smile wide across his face. “Please take me with you,” he begged, “When the match stops burning you disappear just like the stove, and the food, and the Christmas tree,” in a fit of desperation he took the rest of the matches in his hand and struck them all at once. The light burned so bright and so warm, his abuela took him into her arms and she lifted him towards the heavens with her.

Away from the cold, away from the hunger, away from the darkness.

But in the small corner, in the frozen hours of the morning, sat the dear boy. Cheeks rosy, frozen, leaning against the stone wall, with a smile on his face, he’d frozen to death on Christmas Day. In his hands, he clutched a bundle of burnt matches.

“He wanted to warm himself,” they said, looking at the sad sight.

They had no idea of the wonderful things he saw, and the glorious Christmas celebration he was having with his abuela in heaven.


End file.
